Half Human
by Drinking Again
Summary: Space!AU. As The Empire battles to achieve intergalactic dominance, Cam and Zac are just two human foot soldiers in a war dominated by the mechanical. When a simple takeover mission goes wrong, however, Zac is left crippled and forced into a life never meant for him. With three assassin androids as his new mentors, will he be able to adjust to what the Empire now expects of him?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Back, during the middle of exam season to vent stress via writing awful and gratuitous fanfiction. Currently only half way through season two of Mako Mermaids (which has been unfairly adorable so far), so writing AU means I can't mess up any of the unknown canon, though I'm getting the impression some pretty dramatic stuff goes down in Season 2... anyway, hope you enjoy dumb Space!AU. Uploads will probably be slow because revision.

 **Warnings:** Copious amounts of swearing, violence, PTSD, and possible body horror? Rated T. There will be two sex scenes tied in with the storyline of this AU, but I'll publish them separately in my M-rated Mako Mermaid collection rather than here, with a note of when they're relevant.

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Chapter One: A trashy space AU is an important mandatory part of any respectable fandom.

Cam

The gunfire is deafening. Cam can hardly breathe for the sand and dust blown up by all the commotion. It's all he can do to stay orientated, let alone fight for the glory of the Empire, and all that crap.

"Fucks sake," Zac coughs from beside him, where they both sit squatting behind a convenient boulder, "Empire cares more about those metal shells than about us."

Turning to look over his shoulder, Cam squints at the figures moving through the dust cloud around them. Now that the human foot soldiers have exhausted the heavy artillery of their target, it would appear the Empire is sending the real army in. Admittedly, this real army is the sole reason the Empire is winning the war despite having half the amount of human support as the Rebellion, so perhaps Zac and Cam ought to be thankful. They look like humans, talk like humans, and can die like humans, but the real fighting force behind the Empire is far from human.

Androids are faster, stronger, and smarter than humans. Of course the army cares more about them than the meat sacks they have to pay to employ, who can barely shoot a gun anyway. "You don't cost ten thousand credits a pop to manufacture," Cam says with a laugh. Zac doesn't seem to find it funny though.

"Maybe the Rebellion's right," he says under his breath. "Maybe the Empire really doesn't care about the human soul anymore."

"Zac, you can have your deep philosophical debate after we get off this hellhole of a planet. For now let's just be good canon fodder, yeah?" Cam puts a hand on his best friend's shoulder, because Zac really looks like he's ready to switch sides, and they both know how that would fare. The Rebellion hasn't won a single battle since the integration of androids into the Empire's fighting tactics. Cam doesn't think Zac's going to change that.

"Attention soldiers," booms a gruff female voice in their earpieces, managing to be loud even against the sounds of lasers blasting great buildings to pieces. "The passage to the refinery has been cleared; you are to proceed and take hostage any prisoners you can find. Out."

"All this for some damn spices," Zac grumbles, sneaking a peak over the boulder. He nearly loses his head as three shots are fired his way, only just managing to duck in time. "Cleared my ass."

"Relax," Cam says. "We'll just wait for the androids to really clear it out, then go join the other meat sacks. Good plan or what?"

"Really wish you wouldn't call us humans meat sacks, Cam." Zac fidgets uncomfortably. "Sounds like something an Andy would call us."

"We call them metal shells, what does it matter?"

"Makes it sound like they're better than us."

Cam nearly goes to point out that they are better, in every way aside from this dumb human soul bullshit, but bites his tongue. His priority is stopping Zac from bolting out there to go clear the way to the refinery. Admittedly his genius plan is defying orders and could get them executed, but at least that way there's a slim chance they'll actually survive.

They wait behind their fragile shelter until the sounds of explosions and slaughter fade into the distance. Zac sticks his head out again, and this time there's no retaliation; The ground ahead of them is populated solely by corpses and rubble. They're alone.

"Race you there," Cam yells once he's sure they're safe. He slings his rifle over his shoulder and breaks into a sprint. It feels good; the dust has cleared by now, and after spending months cooped up on a ship, being able to run in the open air is a welcome change. There are three suns high in the sky and if he avoids looking at the fallen corpses, he can nearly pretend everything's normal.

"Fuck you," he yells after Zac, who overtakes him easily. It makes Zac laugh, so he can't really feel jealous, though he probably ought to. After all, whilst they may all be meat sacks, Zac is classified as elite; physically superior to the rest of his kind, all muscles and innate athletic talent. If it weren't for the androids outshining everyone, he'd probably be in a position of power. Thanks to the androids though, they're both on the same bottom rung level, elite Zac and borderline write off Cam together. Cam wouldn't admit it, but perhaps he's a little bit grateful.

They race down through the canyon valley, past detonated outposts and annihilated machine gun stations. It doesn't matter anymore; they've seen it all before. What matters is they're still alive, and no one caught their cowardice. Today, they've survived.

"Found them," Zac yells from up ahead, spotting the refinery down in the base of the valley. The androids have it surrounded, and what remains of the human Empire forces are securing the inside.

"Go ahead," Cam pants, doubling over and clutching at the stitch in his chest. "I'll catch up."

Grinning, Zac laughs at his fitness. "Don't let the Empire catch you doing this, or they'll have you on double training." He laughs again when Cam gives him the finger. Lowering the visor of his suit helmet, Zac jogs off to go help the others.

"Arsehole."

Zac isn't even out of breath as Cam watches him vanish. It's always been like this, Zac overachieving and Cam struggling to keep up. Sure, Zac can be an asshole about it when he wants to be, but as Cam winces through the lactic acid build up in his muscles, he laughs to himself. Zac might be a greek god in human form or whatever, but he'd be dusted by now if Cam hadn't been round to stop him doing something boneheaded every other day.

Cam just about manages to catch his breath when he hears it; a high, whining siren. He thinks it must be some new Empire technology, dismissing it. They barely tell the meat sacks anything nowadays.

His chest tightens all over again, however, when he spots the androids sprinting towards him. A blur to the human eye, they reach him in under a minute, crossing a good mile in that time. Then they run right past him.

"W-what?" Cam stutters, watching them sprint off before looking back at the refinery. A crackle sounds in his earpiece.

"All soldiers retreat, repeat, retreat. Enemy bombing imminent. Estimated impact in ten, nine-" Cam doesn't hear the rest because the entire area is eclipsed in a wave of dust and light. It's hot and scalding against his face, but he only gets the outer remains of it. It's enough to knock him off his feet, however, sending him sprawling into the sand of the desert ground, blinding him.

A high-pitched whine croons in his ear like a lullaby as he sits up. He looks around at the canyon, down at the refinery, and barely registers where he is, what's happened. It's all distant and serene, like being underwater, and then-

"Zac."

Scrambling to his feet he stumbles once, twice, and then manages to lope down to the base of the valley. The mile takes him longer than it should, even in spite of his lack of elite physical fitness. He thinks his ankle's bust, he keeps falling over, and there's blood in his mouth. He ignores it.

"Zac?" He croaks out as he reaches the first of the bodies. He wouldn't be able to tell if it was Zac even if he could see straight; the face torn to shreds, an arm missing, and the rest is hardly a human body at all. Coughing violently, he staggers across the field of corpses, turning those that are face down to examine them. The refinery itself has buckled inwards, slowly issuing a fine red powder from its crumpled reserves. Inhaling it makes Cam's head spin further, his finger tips tingling and he wonders just what the hell is being mined on this godforsaken planet.

"Zac? Zac? Hey, Zac?" He mumbles it over and over. Few of the bodies left strewn around are moving, and those that are probably wish they weren't, burned and broken. Cam doesn't know what kind of a bomb that was, or where the hell it came from, but he can still see that it was not supposed to happen.

Someone fucked up. Missed something. Was it a trap?

Delirious, he falls repeatedly, barely getting to his feet before dropping down again. "Zac?" He chokes out again. He falls again, this time atop a body. Poor bastard has his legs ripped clean off of him, and there's blood pouring from his head like it's going out of fashion. It moves, groaning softly, and Cam considers putting the miserable sod out of its misery with his rifle. Then he recognises the groan.

"Zac? Fuck, Zac, is that you?" It can't be. It is. It really is. Cam turns him onto his back and though the face is mangled and seared, half is recognisable as the best friend he grew up and went to war with. "Oh hell. Oh fucking hell." He continues in that vein for a good five minutes, Zac's one good eye not seeing him, and not recognising or processing information. He's still alive, but barely.

Crying now, hysterical from the red dust and the shock, Cam hugs Zac's amputated torso to his chest and cries into his hair. Zac makes a disgruntled noise of protest, or maybe pain, Cam doesn't know, just laughs helplessly anyway. "Still alive buddy. Come on. You'll be just fine. I'll take you back. Get you patched up right as rain. Nothing a good doctor can't fix, Zac. Just a couple of scratches."

He keeps mumbling reassurances to himself, despite Zac going limp. He's still breathing though, and as Cam keeps muttering to himself he slows. Maybe he really can be the hero this time. Zac's saved his ass so many times in the past, surely Cam's got to have a chance to be the one to come to the rescue. It's only a couple of kilometres back to camp. Sure Zac's bleeding out at an alarming rate and, well, devoid of legs, but…

Logic doesn't matter to Cam at that moment; he's too high to care anyway. He forces himself to stand and grabs his best friend under the armpits. "Fuck you Zac," he mutters, taking a deep breath of red powder. "What makes you think you have the right to leave me alone in this thing?"

Gritting his teeth, he begins the long haul back. Unsteady on his legs, he trips and buckles over and over, but pumped up on adrenaline, refuses to stay down. He doesn't stop even as he has to drag Zac's stump body up the hill out of the valley, and just swears colourfully as Zac gets caught on rocks or in narrow crevices. Doesn't matter. Keep going.

Halfway there, his earpiece resurrects itself in a buzz of static. "Attention survivors. We have neutralised the bomb threat. All surviving soldiers are to ensure the refinery is secure. Top priority. Repeat, you are to secure the refinery. Those of you that require medical attention shall receive it once we are sure the area is secured."

Cam stops to listen to the recording again. He laughs, at first just a sort of snort, and then he devolves into hysterics. "Fucking Empire, hey Zac?" He grins, securing his hold on Zac's wrists, too exhausted to pull him by the armpits anymore. He counts to three in his head and commences pulling again, dragging Zac away from the refinery, back towards their camp. Let some other asshole secure the refinery. Cam's had a desertion charge coming any day now anyway.

Though no other retreating survivors accompany him, he's fairly confident that's because there are none left to retreat anyway. The desert and canyon are silent; even the air, usually blowing gusts of grit against the rock, has fallen still. All he can hear is himself panting, swallowing back blood and gasping as his muscles ache. It doesn't seem to end. Like the desert, it feels like it surely will go on forever.

As the horizon shimmers, he thinks he sees a mirage: a glittering spectacle of something, civilisation maybe. Voices cry out, welcoming him. Hope, a rescue.

A shot's fired, and his legs buckle entirely beneath him. One has a gaping burn shot through the thigh of his suit, and as he falls his grip on Zac drops too. Two individuals in matching white suits jog over, say something in sharp tones, but nothing that Cam can make out. To him they look like angels, backed against the halos of the suns.

One of them inspects Zac. "Human… health profile?" Cam's able to make out that much, though it's garbled. Watching their mouths open and close, they look like big guppy fish, their flashing eyes angry and huge and distorted. They both scowl twisted, enormous scowls as he vomits.

"Elite… promise. Could try… program?"

"No… not ready… we don't… authorisation."

"Screw… dead… humanity… needs this."

Silence. One of the angels stands, paces a moment, and then swears. Cam's hearing clears just enough to make out their conversation, "Alright. Take him on board and begin the operation."

"What about this one?" The other angel kicks Cam in the side.

"The deserter? Let the military deal with him. They have their methods."

"Yes Ma'am."

Cam breaks into a dumb, dizzy grin as he watches more angels rush forwards to pick Zac's body up. They all carry him off, back into the camp, to safety, away from bombs, the heat, and mysterious red powder. Cam doesn't stop grinning even as a man in a black suit, like his only equipped with a better ventilation system and a shimmering energy shield, strides up to him. The grin lasts even as that man draws out a small metal stick that lights up with electricity, and slams it across the side of his head.

The grin fades only as he's plummeted into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** In regard to my other Mako fics, I'll try get back into them after exams are over. Only ridiculous Space!AU is trashy enough to soothe my revision plagued soul. Other Mako characters shall be introduced into this AU slowly by the way, but I can assure you they're coming.

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Chapter Two: It's perhaps unwise for someone who's never read a novel set in space to write a Space!AU, but it's too late to think about such things now.

Zac

"What do we do?" Zac asks quietly, sat on the end of his bed. Cam is pacing before him.

"What do you mean what do we do? We've been conscripted. We go and we fight like everyone else." Cam manages to laugh it off, though Zac doesn't see how. "Unless you're desperate to be executed."

"We could run," Zac suggests, looking around at his room. Holographic trophies are stashed on every available surface and shelf, all his sporting achievements, competition victories. All of it seems a bit pointless now. "I heard the Rebellion accepts anyone."

"Rebellion's no better than the Empire, Zac," Cam says with a sigh. "They both only want wealth and power. Rebellion is just a bunch of arseholes looking to start a fight. Empire wants control. And we both know which side will win."

Zac looks down at his feet. He's an excellent runner, always has been. He could probably outrun the Empire troops, when they came to collect those eligible for fighting. "They might not take you, you know," he says, looking up at Cam. "Given your asthma and all. You can't run for shit, let alone fight."

The suggestion is there. Cam grins back at him, a crooked expression Zac's come to know well, and this time it makes his stomach sink. "And miss out on all the fun? No chance."

"You're an idiot." Cam just laughs.

"Look who's talking."

Zac tries to say something back, but his chest tightens. It starts to hurt, aching, blinding him so that his vision sways and spins and goes black. Cam vanishes from sight and everything is screaming, every muscle fibre ripping, every bone breaking. He tries to gasp for air, his lungs feeling as if they are awash with fluid, but finds he cannot move. What-?

Everything's spinning, faster and faster. Though the pain is excruciating, it feels as if it's happening to another person, a different him. Where is he? What's… what's going on?

"You're late," one of the androids stood outside of the refinery barks at him. His vision comes hurtling to a stop, and the desert spans out before him, the canyon walls loading slowly like an image buffering with bad Internet connection. Several androids have the refinery surrounded, and two are looking at him critically. "Where's your comrade?"

"Double checking the perimeter," Zac says with a shrug. Cam and his stitches are not something the androids need to know about. It's not just about protecting Cam; he hates letting the androids know how weak humans can be.

"There's no need," one of the androids says flatly. "We were thorough."

Zac just gives them an empty smile and enters. The refinery's air is thick with moisture, humid and hot, suffocating. A few remaining members of the Rebellion sit hunched over on their knees, guarded by the Empire troops. Zac would help out, only he doesn't see that there's much for him to do, and the sight of Rebellion fighters on their knees makes him uncomfortable. He does one lap of the complex, and then wanders back outside, just as a siren sounds overhead.

The humans gathered there exchange confused glances. The androids have all vanished. "Anyone know what's going on?" Zac calls out. He gets a few mumbled replies of 'no idea' and that sort of thing before the sky ignites. A blinding ball of light hurtles down towards them, and everything is eclipsed in heat and light and shrapnel and chaos.

Zac tries to scream, but again finds he has no voice. The light is gone, but darkness isn't there either. There's a big gaping void and the disorientation is overwhelming, sickening. He vomits, feels it burn his throat, but does not register where he is sick, how, or what happens to it once it has left his body. He no longer feels like he has a body, only a white-hot pain receptor that is constantly being stimulated. He screams again, and this time he hears it.

He sits bolt upright. There's a bright light over his head, directed down at him and- what? Looking down at himself, he sees the mangled remains of what looks like something that could have once been legs, now bloodied stumps. Wires have been jammed into them, grafts set up across the skin and metal. A thin white fluid is being pumped into the amputated limbs. Into him. How…

He can't comprehend it; He's sick again. "Someone… sedated." A disembodied voice barks orders from beside him, and other voices chime in to echo acknowledgement. The bright white light is spinning. He thinks he hit his head on it. Maybe. Who knows? Where-?

Hands push him back into the table beneath him, hands he can't quite feel but know are there. The white light traces the path of a circle once, twice, then a third time, before it vanishes once again.

"Shoot, soldier."

"I can't."

"No, you won't. There's a difference."

The gun, a laser pistol, shakes in Zac's hands. Where's Cam? He remembers; Cam fell behind ages ago. Zac was one of the few to fight his way through the Rebellion's defences, along with the android captain. Delta, Zac thinks they're called. Just a replacement for a series of numbers. An attempt at appearing human.

He doesn't have time to be angry about androids though. Delta is looking at him flatly. "Do you want me to report you for disobedience, soldier?" Zac doesn't know what to do. No, he knows, just doesn't want to do it. He shakes his head. "Then shoot."

Seven members of the Rebellion are lined up against the opposite wall, on their knees. They gave up the minute they saw the android. They are the last line of defence for this military base, the commanders and strategists. No doubt they have had hundreds of people killed by their order. That doesn't make it any easier though.

"Shoot." Over and over Zac can hear that voice, urging him on. He doesn't know how long he resists for. It's only when he realises that Cam and the others are on their way that he breaks out of the trance. Cam can't see this.

He raises the gun. The Rebellion fighters mostly bow their heads, though the one in the middle, a girl on the cusp of adulthood, looks him dead in the eye. She smirks right as he pulls the trigger.

One. Two. He feels like he's going to be sick.

Three. Four. Their bodies drop like flies to the floor.

Five. Six. He can see Delta nodding out of the corner of his eye.

Seven. Cam comes sprinting through the door.

"Christ," he pants, doubling over. He has to catch his breath as always, before looking around him. "They give you much trouble?"

"Refused to surrender," Delta says with a nod. Zac throws the gun down on the ground and wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He's cut his cheek from biting it so hard.

"Idiots," Cam mumbles, looking at the corpses.

Zac too looks at the bodies, counting them over and over. They seem to melt into the floor before his eyes, and then the floor melts away too, and it's back to the void for him. Is this it? Is he finally getting retribution for what he's done? Is this hell?

"He awake?" A young, male voice asks.

"Yes. It'll take some time for him to adjust though. Give him space," says another.

Zac blinks. The bright white light has been switched off; now it's just a small bulb hanging in its casing, dangling from a wire.

Slowly, he realises he can feel again. He rolls a shoulder, twitches a finger or two. Looking up, he begins to take in detail aside from the light bulb. The ceiling is white, worked with piping and thin, fluorescent strip lighting. He must be back on a ship, though he does not recognise the décor of this one. Everything here has been painted white. Back on their command ship, nothing is decorated. Metal is left as bare metal, the world there just varying shades of grey. Here feels more detached, clinical. The question, however, is where is here?

Slowly, he co-ordinates his body to sit up. It aches, like he's been beaten repeatedly with heavy objects, but he finds he has no difficulty moving it. He closes his eyes again as the nausea returns, and tries to remember how he got there. The flashbacks come back. He never meant to remember those things; he's been trying to block out the slaughter for months. He doesn't like dwelling on the past he and Cam had to leave behind. He doesn't recall the explosion.

Working backwards, he shakes as he remembers racing Cam, the refinery, and the bomb. Remembers his body being torn apart, hearing Cam's voice in the distance, feeling him cry into his hair. It's all so horrifying it doesn't seem real. Can't be real, given how he's alive.

"Cam?" He asks quietly. When Cam doesn't immediately respond with a quipped insult he knows he's not there. "Is Cam alright?"

"Who's-" The young voice begins, but the older one cuts him off.

"He's alive. It's you we're more worried about. How do you feel?"

Honestly, Zac's not too sure how to answer that. He feels… fine. He shouldn't do, if any of what he remembers is real, but he feels fine. Better than fine, actually. He feels alive, pumping with energy and an odd sense of strength, like he'd just run a marathon and was ready to do it again.

Braving the likely reality that he's now a bed-ridden cripple for life, he opens his eyes. In front of him stand the two individuals he heard talking. One is a tall, middle-aged man with dark olive skin, shrewd black eyes and a grizzled, unshaven appearance. Beside him, a short android stares back at Zac with unblinking bright blue eyes, too bright, too blue, devoid of pupils and framed by a shock of white lashes, almost invisible against the white of his skin and hair. Zac does not recognise them.

"Who are you?" Zac asks, since that seems a fair question.

"Your doctors," the grizzly man answers. "I am doctor Zhao, and this is my assistant android, Capa." He pauses and then repeats, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Zac snips, oddly irritable. The way these people are looking at him, it's as if they are expecting something from him. There are two other androids positioned by the door, strapped up in heavy-duty military gear and armed with taser sticks. He shifts uncomfortably. "Where's Cam?"

"You nearly didn't make it," Zhao says, carefully. He doesn't take his eyes off of Zac, studying him. "We're still not sure what problems you may encounter. This is all very new technology."

"I said," Zac says slowly, stepping down off of the table he's sat on and moving closer, "where's-" He stops short, however, when he catches sight of himself in the mirror behind the doctor.

Zhao says something but Zac doesn't hear, pushing past him, his eyes locked on his own reflection. He walks right up to the mirror, and raises two fingers to touch it, finding it to be real, not a hologram. The cool surface reflects him perfectly.

"We are working on developing some more… aesthetically pleasing replacements," Zhao says from behind him. "These are merely the prototypes. We never got official permission for this project, but once the Empire sees how successful it was, we're sure to be able to upgrade you." Upgrade. Zac hears that word bounce around his skull. Like a computer. A machine.

Looking at his reflection, he knows the word to describe himself now, though he doesn't want to use it. What he is now isn't exactly subtle. One half of his face is flesh, bloodied and bruised, the other smooth and shiny and ever so slightly metallic. Where one eye should be, a crude replacement has been bolted in, without a pupil, like the android behind him.

Dropping his gaze to his legs, he inhales sharply at what he finds there. Stark naked, there is nothing to hide the strange, supple smoothness of his legs, from which wires still protrude, and the grafts have yet to quite cover all of the inner mechanisms. A faint blue light pulses from within the limbs, and as he looks up, he sees it beats in time with the light of his new eye. He knows just what he is.

"I'm a cyborg."


	3. Chapter 3

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Chapter Three: Philip K Dick could have done it better, a memoir. Then again, Philip K Dick probably wouldn't write Mako Mermaid fanfiction, so there you go.

Zac

"That is one term for your condition."

Zac braves touching the strange soft-smoothness of his face. It feels cold against the flush of his skin. "Your legs were unsalvageable, so we've had to graft you new ones from scratch. The synthetic flesh will finish growing within a week if you're careful not to tear it. Your eye we had to remove. Some of your internal organs required patching or replacing. As for your brain-"

Zac swallows. His brain? He stares a point in his forehead, waiting for it to explode or start pulsing with blue light too. "A lot of the tissue suffered damage due to oxygen starvation and trauma. We managed to keep as much as we could in tact, but just over fifty perfect we've had to replace." Zhao inspects his blue surgical gloves. "It's quite clever really; we used the brain models for androids and adapted them around what we could keep of your cerebrum. Your cerebellum had to go entirely though, which I think you'll find to be very beneficial."

Half the words don't mean jack to Zac anymore, and he isn't listening anyway. He feels sick all over again. Over fifty percent. He's more metal shell than meat sack now.

Zhao seems to take his silence as attentiveness, however, and keeps going. "Your cerebellum is the part of your brain that's responsible for fine tuning your movements. It's the replacement that we've given you that's allowing you to grasp control over your limbs so quickly." What if Cam no longer refers to them both as meat sacks? What if Zac becomes another metal shell to him? Sure Cam will probably call him that as a teasing joke, but it just begs the question: is he even human anymore?

"Now, your artificial limbs also share the enhanced abilities of androids. Coupled with your advanced cerebral activity, you'll find you're capable of a lot more than you used to be. We've equipped you with the finest technology available to us." He won't even be allowed to join the Rebellion anymore; they won't want him. They've all heard stories about what the Rebellion does to their injured soldiers; they'd rather they died than have artificial replacements for limbs. They feel it detracts from the importance of the human soul to do otherwise.

"I know it's perhaps a bit soon to start discussing such things but, we'd like to enrol you in a special training program." Cam will be pleased. Zac doesn't know why, but his best friend always seems to speak of the Rebellion with deep contempt. "We want you to become the first human hybrid to participate in the androids' training. We want you to fight with them."

On the note of Cam, where is he? "You see, this could be one of the most, if not the most, important milestones in android-human history. You'd be the symbol of our two races being able to co-exist permanently. Prove that we humans can be just as capable as they can."

"Where's Cam?" Zac asks, his voice perfectly serene and calm. He turns away from the mirror to regard the doctor.

"Listen, this is history we're talking about here," Zhao says, his brow furrowing at Zac's inability to appreciate the gravity of the situation.

He's right. Zac doesn't appreciate the gravity of the situation. Instead, he snaps.

Lunging for the doctor, he goes to shove him. "Where is Cam?!" He yells as his hands connect with the doctor's chest. The action sends the doctor flying, slamming back against the operating table and sliding off of the other side, coming to lie crumpled on the floor.

His own unexpected strength was enough to stop him, but Zac soon finds himself with his head slammed down against the table. He can see the two androids at the door watching him with disinterest, their guns not even raised. "Please refrain from using violence," Capa says, a sharp sliver of ice running through his voice. For someone so small, he has a surprisingly strong grip.

"Leave him alone, Capa," the doctor grumbles, standing. Capa hesitates, his grip tightening, before he relinquishes his hold and steps back, folding his arms behind his back. "He doesn't understand his own capabilities yet. It's perfectly understandable that he's upset." Smoothing his clothes out, Zhao looks up at Zac. "Your friend is currently aboard your previous command ship. In bringing you to us he violated direct orders. The Empire is trialling him accordingly."

Cam has always been the type to make jokes about how one day his cunning avoidance of death is going to get him executed. Zac always thought if that really did happen, he'd be being executed right alongside him.

He's quiet for a moment before straightening. It doesn't matter that he feels sick to his stomach, disgusted with his own body; he can't afford to flip out right now. "You want me to work for you, right? You and the Empire," Zac asks.

"We'd like you to begin training immediately," Zhao confirms with a nod.

"Then I want Cam. I can't do this without him."

Zhao looks steadily at him for a long time before smirking. "You do realise you are conscripted? To not comply with the Empire's wishes will be viewed as insubordination and you'll be trialled, same as your friend."

"Way I see it," Zac says, rocking back on his heels. He's butt naked, just lost his legs, and is pretty sure he's no longer a real human being, but that doesn't stop him from being a sassy shit with this guy. "You're the ones that need me. I'm history, remember? You're welcome to kill me if you want, I'm basically dead anyway. But if you expect me not to go mad and kill myself, I need Cam."

Exhaling, Zhao glances at the androids stationed by the door before running a hand back through his greying hair. "Very well. I will speak with those in charge of his trial." Looking Zac over, he grimaces. "Will you at least agree to co-operate until we know his fate?" Zac smiles brightly to show he can play nice too.

"Of course." He hesitates before asking, "I'm part android now anyway; can't you just order me to do it?"

He isn't expecting it when Capa visibly flinches, where previously he'd been motionless. "We're still unsure of the degree of autonomy you'll retain. We're hoping you will have complete control over yourself. There have been recent reports of the Rebellion hacking android software and reprogramming them against us." Zhao smiles. "Hence why you may be the solution to all our problems. But for now, let's agree not to test that function."

Nodding, Zac tries to avoid looking down at his legs again, or back at the mirror. Instead he focuses on being a good, compliant little cyborg. He takes the clothing he's handed, a simple white hospital gown, dresses, and then follows the doctor out of the operating theatre. The rest of the ship is just as clean and sterile, painted in neutral tones and everything at perfect right angles.

As they walk down the ship corridors, Zac notices that almost everyone they pass is an android. Some are more recognisable than others, varying in their appearances. Most are obvious, wires protruding from their backs and necks, or their luminous eyes matching his in their lack of a pupil. Others are subtle, their skin supple and soft like a human's, right down to the light smattering of fine hairs filling the pores.

All regard him with some kind of interest, some with open, curious expressions, others turning up their noses at him, like he would do were he in their position. Cyborgs have never been viewed as a good thing, a kind of awkward cripple that has to rely on machines to get through life, whilst still retaining the weakness of humanity. If they knew that even his brain had been augmented…

He avoids looking at them, watching the floor. A couple nod respectfully at the doctor or greet him, never lingering long. Their movements, he notices, are quick and brisk compared to the doctor's. More unnervingly, he notices that his match theirs far more closely than they do Zhao's.

"This will be your room for the duration of your stay aboard this ship," Zhao says, leading him into a standard apartment. The door is an airlock with a retina scan to grant or deny access. Zac wonders absently which eye he should use, or, even, if his will be able to open it.

Still, it's a far nicer room than the bunk bed dorm he used to share with eleven other soldiers. He has a bed to himself, a dresser, and a sink with a mirror positioned above it. Well, that will have to go, but otherwise, he finds he likes it. "Unless you have any further questions, I shall go and see about your friend," Zhao says, watching him. Zac shakes his head. "Very well. Please feel free to make yourself at home." With that he leaves, Capa following at his heels.

Whilst Zac doesn't like the doctor all that much, he finds he regrets losing the company. Being left alone with his own head is the last thing he wants. Worse, he finds himself moving on automatic over to the mirror, despite his head screaming at him not to.

 _Christ, you're an ugly bastard_ , he thinks in Cam's voice. "Still better looking than you," he mumbles back to his absent friend. He laughs at his own stupid joke before it catches in his throat and breaks into a sob. At least he has the good sense to screw his eyes closed so he can't look at that horrific reflection, bowing his head against the mirror.

He hates crying. Always has done, ever since he learned that it makes other people uncomfortable. It's why he loves Cam so much; he's never seen the bastard cry in his life. Sure, Cam could whinge to win a war, but he's never openly cried in front of anyone, at least not that Zac knows of.

He tries everything he can to stop, but once he's started, he's the kind who has to cry himself out. Every time he thinks he has a handle on it he remembers that the problem isn't just attached to him or built around him, but has been surgically sealed inside of him. Every thought running through his head is fifty percent whatever the fuck they filled his skull up with. He's not sure if he's even thinking properly anymore. Is he different? Are his thoughts still the same as if he had a whole human brain?

 _Geez, your face could kill a cow_ , drawls Cam's voice inside his head. It makes him laugh a bit, but fails to stop the crying. Reaching back around his neck, he runs two fingers over the cold metal wires that loop around from the base of his skull to the top of his spine. In a moment of anger, he tries to rip them out, gasping slightly at the pain it arouses, but finds they won't budge. He's stuck like this.

"Geez, your face could kill a cow." He stops crying. He smiles, mumbling,

"You've already said that."

"Been talking to me in your head again? You know that's weird, right? Have I told you that's weird before? Because it really is."

Opening his eyes slowly, he turns away from the sink. Cam has been deposited in his room, standing by the door. "What the hell happened to you?" Zac asks gruffly, his voice thick with tears. Cam laughs.

"Isn't that my question here?" He squints, and it's an ugly expression because his face is black and blue and swollen, sporting two black eyes, a large gash on his forehead, and a bust lip. "Have you changed your hair or something? You look different."

Shaking with laughter and possibly sobs again, Zac mumbles an, "I hate you," under his breath. He keeps laughing as long as he can to block out the silence, but he can't delay it forever.

Cam exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering over to Zac's bed, plopping down on the bed sheets. "Well fuck," he says. "So… they said you're going to be some kind of metal shell, meat sack superhero now."

"They want me to train to fight with the androids," Zac says, trying not to feel sick at being called a metal shell.

He's waiting for Cam to make fun of him, but when he looks over, he finds Cam grinning goofily, no malice in the expression. "Well how fucking cool is that?" He asks, leaning back on his hands. "You get to be some kickass cyborg whilst I'm stuck here with all my useless human limbs. It's like something out of a comic book. Promise you won't forget about me when you become rich and powerful, yeah?"

"They tell you about my brain?" Zac asks quietly. "How more than half of it isn't even a human brain anymore. It's some kind of android bollocks."

"Yeah." Cam shrugs. "So now you're crazy smart too. You've got super strong legs, probably like laser vision or some shit, and you've just been promoted." He raises an eyebrow at Zac, leaning further back. "So tell me: what the fuck are you looking so miserable about?"

Smiling, though there's no warmth in it, Zac looks down at his super strong legs and watches as ever so slowly, the grafts grow, inching closer and closer to obscuring the mess of hardware beneath. "What about you?"

"They let me off. Apparently you told them you simply couldn't live without my wonderful self – which is true – so I'm allowed to hang around here for a while." Cam shrugs. "Maybe I can be the team mascot? Or they'll hook me up with a bionic arm or something. I'm open to suggestions."

Zac gives him a token laugh before joining him on the bed, tucking his knees into his chest. He has to close his eyes for a minute when the feels the uncovered metal of his legs pressing against his chest. "Am I still me, Cam?" He asks, squinting over at his best friend.

"Well, I ain't an expert on cyborg psychology Zac, but you still look like the same big moron to me. You've just got a bit of a weird lazy eye and some impressive three-dimensional tattoos."

"Still a meat sack?"

"Definitely. The meatiest."

Laughing again, Zac punches his arm, and they soon devolve into play wrestling. It's never been difficult for Zac to pin him, but this time he meets no resistance; Cam's efforts to brush him away amount to nothing against his new strength, and he's caged to the bed in the space of three seconds. "Fuck," Cam mutters. "Never going to win this thing now."

"Like that'd ever happen anyway."

Squashed against the bed sheets, Cam looks up at him in a rare moment of quiet. "You promise me one thing, Zac," he says, smirking, but his voice has lost its teasing, boyish tone for once. "You don't let them make you into anything you don't want to be. Got it?"

Rolling off of him, Zac stands up from the bed. He'd love to make the promise, but he's too tired to lie. "Bit late for that, Cam."

* * *

 **A/N** : Bit of banter from the lads there. I'm passing this off as biology revision since brain functions are discussed. Or something. Idk. Thanks for reading this trash-saturated madness, reader. Apologies as always for the swearing and blaspheme.

Murshaad: There shall be fembots galore, though Evie gets to be a special snowflake in ways that shall be later revealed.


End file.
